August 23, 2012

If You Need Me, I'll Be Locked in the Bathroom.


I want to talk to you about my relationship with bathrooms.

Before you click away from this page with your nose high, thinking “I don’t need to hear about poop, thankyouverymuch”, let me assure you this post has nothing to do with bodily functions. At least that’s not the plan… I can’t make any guarantees. 

If you’re my sister or my parents, the content of this post will come as no surprise to you. I should mention, however, if you are my parents, please stop reading this blog and pretend you never found it. Your daughter is a sweet, innocent girl who hardly ever calls people motherfuckers. I promise. Probably.

Now back to bathrooms…

I grew up in an old house in Ottawa, with my mom, my dad and my older sister. That’s right, y’all, I’m the baby of the house. I’ll be the first to admit I was a temperamental little bitch of a child, and I had no problem letting people know exactly how I felt. About everything. All the time.  I know it’s pretty hard to imagine me as an outspoken little twat, but try and use your imagination.

When I reflect on my childhood ‘traumas’ two things come to mind. 1) I was very prone to getting the wind knocked out of me. 2) I was very prone to making shit hit the fan and losing my cool.

Let me clarify that the first of those two things is not related to some sort of health problem. I liked to roughhouse. A lot. And more often than not ended up rolling around on the floor, gasping, as my lungs tried to recover from the sudden shock of my body slamming against the ground.  It’s important to note that more often than not, I caused the fall on my own. I think it goes without saying that I was a pretty cool fucking kid.

Now let’s talk about the second item on that list. That’s right, ladies and gents, my childhood is rich in shit-covered ceiling fans*.  Every child deals with stress and anger differently. Some kids throw stuff. Some kids break shit. Some kids punch people. Some kids throw feces. I, however, would lock myself in the bathroom. Every. Fucking. Time.  I didn’t do this in a peaceful manner, I did this in the most bratty, slap-worthy manner possible. The door would need to be slammed at least two solid times, depending on how close the adult was on my trail. Rest assured I would also scream a lot, but only from behind the safe solace of a locked door coupled with a hefty supply of toilet paper to soak up the tears. To this day I can’t scream without crying. If I’m furious, I will weep like a little bitch. It’s just the way I’m wired, and it’s just what’s going to happen if I yell at you. Don’t be fooled by the tears. I will fucking cut you if I have to. But, you know, remorsefully.

*Not literally. Sweet jesus!

I couldn’t tell you how many times I ended up in a screaming fit with the back of the bathroom door. I’m pretty sure if I went to my parent’s basement bathroom, I’d find dents in the wall from my pounding fists/face.  The problem started at a young age. I can recall my babysitter missing an exam because yours truly was a jumbo piece of shit and decided a temper tantrum was more important than a future. Let’s not talk about what that babysitter is doing now.

My personal favourite bathroom incident took place in a hospital. Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I was a jolly young tot who found a tree full of caterpillars. It was the best fucking day ever. The caterpillars lit up my world. So much so, that I got a plastic bowl and filled it with them. Then I proceeded to run the short block home, yelling bloody murder for my mother’s attention so she could witness my earth-shattering, delightful discovery.

The show and tell didn’t go quite as planned.

I fell. Hard.

I don’t even want to think about the caterpillar genocide that took place that afternoon.

With my mom standing at the edge of the porch, she saw her possibly-mentally-challenged daughter wipe out on the curb with a bowl full of caterpillars. Unluckily for me, there also happened to be broken glass and pebbles present at the scene of the crime. These things ended up in my knee.

Screaming and bleeding, I was rushed to the hospital. Once I finally got to see a doctor, they decided they would not be putting me asleep to remove the clutter from my knee.  What does an injured, traumatized child with a knee full of pebbles and glass do?  Make a b-line for the bathroom of course!  Using my advanced conversational skills, I informed the doctor that I needed to pee. I got up and began to saunter to the handicapped bathroom.  A light bulb in my mom’s head went off and she quickly began to follow me. The woman knew I was heading for the only bathroom I could lock. My injured leg did not hold me back. I got in there and locked the door. SWEET VICTORY.

My stay in that bathroom is a little bit foggy. I may have been losing blood, but I cannot be certain. I can recall a team of people outside of the door, trying to coerce me to come out. If memory serves, I indulged in a can of grape soda and a cookie after they fixed up my knee, so it’s probably safe to assume I was bribed.

Side note: You can no longer bribe me with grape soda and a cookie. Liquor, however, is another story.

Needless to say, locking yourself in a bathroom accomplishes very little, but man can it be a fun time. For years, I could have probably listed all of the ingredients in the shampoo and told you exactly how many bandaids were left in the medicine cabinet, but I don’t mean to brag.  

I’m proud to say that I no longer lock myself in bathrooms. On an unrelated note, I do have to look behind the shower curtain every time I pee. Oh look, a bodily function reference. Like I said, no guarantees.


***

 Did you have any special childhood hideouts when you got in trouble? 

17 comments:

  1. To ring true to the damn label...I totally hid in the closet. I had an area with a pillow to sit on, a lamp to read and draw by. You would most certainly not find me in the bathroom. Why? Because every horror movie in history has a bathroom scene in it and I can't even look in the mirror when I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night for fear that some random teenage girl that probably killed herself decades ago in the bathroom is standing behind me...

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    1. You're probably safe to not look in the bathroom mirror at night. Whether or not there is a dead teenager looking at you, no one needs to know what they look like in the middle of the night.

      I like your closet hide out. Sounds like something I need in my life now. Except I don't need to spend any more time in the closet... IF you know what i mean.

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  2. Apparently, I used to hide in the closet wrapped in a blanket with a bucket over my head and I would stay in there for hours talking to "THINGS". I have no memory of this what so ever, so it could be total horse shit since my family members are fucking jerks who like to make up stories.
    On another note, caterpillars are so full of evil. It's no wonder you tripped and fell. I BET THEY MADE IT HAPPEN.

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    1. YOU were the coolest kid, my friend. Buckets are a sign of intelligence. Or something. Maybe...

      Caterpillars were likely the cause of all of my childhood traumas.

      Delete
  3. I will happily bribe you with liquor the next time I see you. I don't know what I'll be getting out of the bribe other than a drunk Britt, but that's pretty much fine with me anyway.

    Really though- a bowl of caterpillars? That's almost as fucked up as picking up random stuffed toys on walks home from bars.

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    1. A drunk Britt is worth a bribe. All the free stuffed toys you could ever want. It's the dream.

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  4. I have 5 younger sisters so I wasn't really able to pitch fits. However, one of my little sisters was the queen of shitfits. Whenever she got upset (and it was often) she would run to her room, slam the door, and play the one cd she had. It was some random mix cd with only 2 songs, Britney's "Stronger" and Cher's "Do You Believe in Life After Love" It was hilarious and often we would provoke her just to watch it happen.

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    1. HA! Those are excellent rage songs. Really sends the right message.

      I'd have definitely provoked her, too.

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  5. Truth be told, I never got in trouble as a kid. I lived with my grandparents and they were just too awesome.

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    1. You are a freak of nature. In a very lucky kind of way.

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  6. I used to hide in the bottom of my wardrobe. Maybe I was hoping Narnia would reveal itself one day and I could convince Aslan to eat my family.

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    1. That's a good thing to hope for. In the heat of a temper tantrum, families definitely need to be eaten by Asian. HA

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  7. I bet the caterpillars locked themselves in the bathroom too after you threw them across them across the sidewalk.

    Whenever my sister whipped out the infamous "I'm telling", I would run for shelter. Under the coffee table that was smaller than myself. Arms and legs poking out the ends. Luckily my parents found it hysterical and laughed too much to punish me.

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    1. They probably did. Caterpillars are such drama queens.

      and HOLY EFF I know you and I would have gotten along as kids.

      Also: Pictures!?

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  8. I always locked myself in my room. But my house was lame and had those safety knobs which you could unlock from the outside. So it really wasn't a real solution to the problem, but it made me feel better.

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  9. wheree have you gone? :( xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm afraid that I've stopped blogging... at least for now.
      My life has gotten super busy and I just don't have any time :( I got a new job and I'm also going to school! UGH.
      I miss it and I miss you guys!
      xx

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